


Not My Fault

by Evenstar656



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Injury, M/M, Medical Procedures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25529038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenstar656/pseuds/Evenstar656
Summary: The times it wasn’t Jim’s fault and the one time it was.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 28
Kudos: 190





	Not My Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: General AOS
> 
> Disclaimer: The Star Trek franchise and its characters are property of Paramount. 
> 
> Author’s Notes: Another little 5ish+1 because I didn’t have enough to flesh each of them into their own stories. Just a bit of shameless h/c. As always, although I am a doctor I’m not that kind so I happily practice with my fictional degree. 
> 
> Warnings: Injury and illness. Language. Slight McKirk.
> 
> I apologize for any mistakes, this was un-beta’d

###

“Energizing!” the transporter technician called out from behind his console.

McCoy was a spring full of potential energy. A team of corpsmen and his head nurse stood ready behind him with their gear loaded on an antigrav stretcher. Jim had spent four days at the hands of a rogue Romulan terrorist group that wanted the negotiations for the new trade agreement between Romulus and the rest of the Federation to fall apart. Spock had commed the ship to tell them their rescue mission had succeeded but there had been no information about what condition Jim was in. The air pressure shifted slightly as golden lights began to swirl on top of the transporter pad. 

“Five seconds!”

The CMO unclenched his fists in an attempt to relax; these situations always put him on edge. Half a dozen figures materialized onto the pad. Only a few muscles relaxed themselves when he saw Jim on his own two feet despite an arm slung over his First Officer’s shoulder. At least he was upright. The other members of the security team scurried off the platform as quickly as possible once they saw their CMO barreling towards the pad with his tricorder already whirring.

“Jim!”

“ ‘m okay, Bones,” the usually electric blue eyes were dull and glassy.

“Spock?”

“He was conscious when we found him.”

McCoy’s eyes skimmed over the tricorder’s screen, Jim did not appear to be in any imminent danger.

“Lay him down,” the quick response team had been right on his heels to the pad.

Jim groaned as Spock set him down on the hovering surface. McCoy couldn’t see any bones obviously out of place despite the captain’s shredded clothing. Other than looking like he’d been roughed up good, he really didn’t look too bad. The doctor had definitely seen him come back to the ship in worse shape. One of the corpsmen picked up his feet and swung them onto the stretcher. 

“I can walk,” Jim resisted Chapel’s firm hand pushing him to lie down. 

“That is not entirely accurate,” Spock interjected.

Jim’s talking drew McCoy’s attention to his mouth; there was some kind of black substance around the corners and down his chin. He waved the tricorder wand and the only thing the screen told him was there was some kind of inflammation in the esophagus.

_What the hell?_

“Doctor McCoy?” 

“I don’t know, Spock. I need a better scan. Let’s get movin’.”

Jim was grateful Spock went ahead of the team and cleared the corridors. His stomach felt like it was going to rip apart and he was nauseous as hell. There was a strange prickling feeling in his limbs that left them heavy and lethargic. 

“Brace yourself, kid.”

The captain was suddenly aware they had made it to sickbay and several pairs of hands had worked their way under him. The movement jarred his multitude of injuries and he grunted.

“Sorry, Jim. We’ll get you something in a minute.”

Jim nodded and closed his eyes; he hated the helplessness of being on his back while they worked on him. Besides, the bright lights on the ceiling weren’t helping his headache from being kicked in the head either.

“We have it from here, Spock,” Jim could hear McCoy speaking over him.

“Doctor, I need to know if his knowledge of any classified material was compromised.”

“Dammit man, that can wait! Chris, get a full panel.”

“Yes, boss,” the nurse ducked her head and collected the ordered blood samples.

Jim peeked his eyes open to see two imposing figures in blue squared off against each other on either side of him. He was too engrossed in what they were doing to notice Chapel had already taken the blood she needed.

“Doctor—“

“It’s fine, Bones. I’m not sure. The beatings weren’t that bad but they tried to use a Centaurian slug.”

“What!” McCoy’s temper suddenly short-circuited.

“I don’t think it worked, not like it did with Pike.”

“Jesus H Christ, get his clothes off now. Spock, get out of here.”

“Doctor, I must determine the level of compromise.”

Jim huffed, “Bones, let him stay.”

“No, Jim. Not while I examine you. Spock, out,” McCoy pointed to the door.

Spock did not move a muscle.

“Go wait in my office. He’s allowed to have some sense of privacy. You can question him after we get him stabilized.”

Jim nodded at the concession and Spock spun on his heel towards the CMO’s office. Chapel followed the commander and pulled the privacy curtain closed for good measure. McCoy wasn’t as gentle as usual when he yanked off Jim’s boots and socks, and it didn’t take much effort to remove the rest of the tattered uniform. The doctor made a mental note of the multitude of bruises and abrasions he needed to take care of before he bundled Jim under a sheet and warm blanket. He knew he was failing to keep his anger at Spock, Jim, and the general situation in check.

“Profile’s done,” Chapel fluttered into the split in the curtain with a data pad.

McCoy scowled at the device, “There’s definitely some kind of neurotoxin in his system but it’s not at the same levels I remember Pike having. Get a line going with fluids and give him 15 migs of Toraphine. I want a level 3 scan.”

Chapel nodded and pulled Jim’s arm from the blanket. “Hold still for me,” was the only warning he got before she drove a needle into the back of his hand.

Jim flinched but the nurse had a firm grasp of his hand and expertly threaded the line into the vein. A shiver worked its way down his spine as the cold sickbay air hit his skin when McCoy bared his mottled chest and abdomen. The doctor huffed as he grabbed a penlight off a nearby tray. Jim jerked his head away as the bright light flashed in each eye and spiked his headache. 

“Headache?” McCoy’s eyes flicked upward to the vitals display.

“What do you think? I was held hostage for days; they weren’t exactly being gentle.”

“Sorry, sorry. Meds should be hittin’ soon. I need to look at your mouth.”

Jim wanted to be left alone but the doctor helped himself and the penlight to his mouth. 

“What the hell is this stuff?” McCoy shone the light at the black residue that coated the captain’s mouth and the back of his throat. “Can you taste it?” 

Jim tried to respond but gagged at the sudden intrusion of a cotton swab rolling around his tender soft palate. McCoy handed the black-coated swab to Chapel who disappeared with it.

“Tastes like something died.”

“Do you feel like you’re breathin’ okay?” McCoy had moved his hands to Jim’s throat.

“Yeah but I’m sure there are cracked ribs.”

The doctor nodded and moved his hands down to Jim’s bruised chest. His touch had softened as he calmed down but Jim could tell exactly when he found one of the cracked ribs.

“I count three cracked for sure,” McCoy moved his hands further down to Jim’s abdomen.

McCoy watched Jim’s face and vitals screen closely for any sign of pain. The man’s stomach was definitely tender, but there didn’t seem to be any indication of internal bleeding. 

Jim was ready to be done with his stomach being prodded, and liked the exam of his lower abdominal organs even less. At least the doctor covered him back up before stepping back and initiating a scan. A green light emanated from a panel directly overhead and scanned him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

“Son of a bitch,” McCoy watched the results load on the display screen next to the biobed. “Jim, why didn’t you tell me that damn slug was still in there? Have you been able to keep any fluids down?”

Jim rolled his eyes, “I don’t know. They didn’t do it at the beginning. It wasn’t long before Spock and the security team showed up.”

“How come it didn’t reach your spinal column? Pike’s chewed through his esophagus to his cord.”

Jim winced, “How am I supposed to know? Maybe I got a defective one?”

“Do you feel any nausea, dizziness, tingling?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jim rolled his head to the side to look at the screen.

“Close your eyes and tell me where you feel this,” McCoy flipped the blanket off the leg closest to him and ran the end of the pen light up the side of the leg from ankle to hip.

“All the way,” Jim wiggled his toes and feet wildly to prove his point. “I told you it wasn’t like with Pike.”

McCoy nodded and righted the blankets, “Well it doesn’t seem to be leaking that god awful neurotoxin to the same extent or else your stomach acid is neutralizing it.”

“The analyzer didn’t—“ Chapel burst through the curtain and caught sight of the screen, “Okayyyyy.”

“I know right, he could be an encyclopedia of weird medical shit all to himself,” McCoy was less that amused at the latest pickle Jim had managed to get himself into.

“What is that thing?”

“Centaurian slug. Like Pike but this one didn’t make it to the spinal cord.”

“Do I need to comm Geoff?

McCoy ran a hand through his hair, “Yeah, looks like we’re goin’ fishing.”

Jim did not want to know what that meant. 

“You can talk to Spock now while we wait.”

Jim nodded and McCoy yanked the curtain open on his way to find the commander.

Spock’s sharp eyes were immediately drawn to the scan of the mass, “Captain.” 

“Terrific right?” Jim watched Spock study the screen.

“Do you know if you have been subjected to the neurotoxic properties of the creature’s secretions?”

Jim huffed, “I don’t think so but I can’t be sure. They weren’t exactly the A-team of terrorists or interrogators; I’ve definitely experienced better. I’m not sure they ever realized I didn’t actually have any power to change the trade agreements.”

“We must be thankful for their ineptitude. It is likely they took you out of convenience to use against the Diplomatic Corps.”

McCoy returned with M’Benga in tow, “Five minutes are up, Spock.”

“Yes, Doctor McCoy. I will make the preliminary report to Command, Captain. You will have to request new codes when you are recovered as yours were deactivated when we reported you missing.”

“Just great,” Jim scoffed at the lengthy and bureaucratic process it took to get a new set of codes. He had only just memorized the last batch after he had to have them reset. 

“Recover swiftly, Jim,” Spock nodded before he left.

“Hey, Captain,” M’Benga greeted the man before he headed for the display screen.

Jim nodded, “Bones, sit me up.”

McCoy set a warm hand on his arm, “Not yet, kid.”

Jim let out a huff of displeasure that went ignored by the conferring physicians. He banged his head on the thin pillow in frustration. They must’ve finally decided what to do because all of a sudden his biobed was disengaged from its base and he was pulled to the back of the bay towards the OR. His blood pressure skyrocketed and he pushed himself to his elbows to halt the movement.

“Jesus, Jim. Lay back,” McCoy pulled him down by his shoulder.

“Why are we here?” Jim resisted as they pushed the biobed next to the operating table.

“Calm down, we’re not actually operating.”

“Then what the hell are you doing?” corpsmen had shown up and were manhandling him from one surface to the other.

“We’re going to put a tube down your esophagus to pull that critter out. Take it easy, it’s simple and we’re not even going to put you out for it.”

Jim didn’t notice Chapel until she grabbed his IV line and injected something into it. Whatever she gave him immediately canceled out the adrenaline in his system and it was a struggle to focus. This was why he hated sickbay. His muscles turned to lead and it took three of them to turn him to his left side. Someone shoved a pillow between his knees and curled them towards his chest. His eyelids were starting to droop when a firm pillow was placed under his head and a cannula inserted into his nostrils.

“I hate you,” Jim slurred when McCoy appeared next to him in scrubs.

“I know you do, but we need to get this thing out of you before it does anything worse.” 

“Can you bite on this for me?” Chapel held a soft plastic ring in front of his mouth.

Jim begrudgingly opened his mouth to accept the guard. It stretched his mouth wide open and was uncomfortable. Something on a screen above him pinged which was followed by more heaviness in his veins. He wished they would slow down and stop drugging him. 

McCoy held out a canister with a long and thin nozzle, “Okay, Jim. I’m going to spray this on the back of your throat. Just breathe normally.”

That was easier said than done. The jet of freezing cold air nearly made him choke before the anesthetic started to work. Jim watched in horror as M’Benga handed McCoy an impossibly long tube with a light at the end that was headed straight for his open mouth. Jim saw his face pop up on a screen that must have come from a camera at the end of the tube.

“Breathe through it.”

McCoy waited for the spasms to pass to before he threaded the end of the scope through the mouthpiece. His heart clenched when Jim slammed his eyes shut; there wasn’t any time to waste removing the creature given its destructive nature.

“Okay, Jim. This part is gonna be tricky,” McCoy watched on the screen as he advanced the tube’s end towards the epiglottis. “I need you to try and swallow.”

Jim tried to swallow around the tube but he was sure it didn’t work with his anesthetized muscles. 

“Try again, kid,” McCoy was focused on the circle of tissue.

Jim tried again.

“Great job, we’re in.”

McCoy relaxed a hair once they got past the hard part. 

“What is that?” M’Benga pointed to the black substance that coated Jim’s esophagus.

“Huh, that shit’s down here too. I don’t know, something from that damn slug.”

“Is that scarring underneath? See if it flushes off.”

Jim tried to drown out their commentary; the memories of his ordeal tried to fight the drugs keeping him calm and relaxed. He vividly remembered his mouth being forced open and the feel of the insect squirming down his throat. His body had tried to heave and expel the thing out but it never budged. 

“Boss,” Chapel’s voice was stern.

McCoy stopped what he was doing and looked up to the vitals screen she was pointing to. Jim was panicking. “Jim, you’re doing great, kid.”

Everyone stood still for a minute until Jim managed to calm himself.

“Go back to three o’clock, I think I saw it,” M’Benga pointed to something on the screen.

Jim couldn’t feel the scope maneuver but he did see the spiny tail of a large insectoid take up the entire screen.

“Fuck?” McCoy tensed.

“Is it still alive?”

McCoy nudged the creature with the end of the scope to see if it moved, “No?”

“Grasper or snare?” M’Benga was preparing a long thin wire.

“Let’s try the grasper.”

McCoy handed the scope to M’Benga and passed the thin wire with the attachment down the inside of the hollow tubing.

“Jim, I’m not sure if you’re the luckiest or unluckiest son of a bitch I know,” McCoy was laser focused on the screen.

The creature didn’t react when the doctor opened the grasping pincers and latched onto its long tail. Centimeter by agonizing centimeter, McCoy carefully pulled the dead Centaurian slug up Jim’s esophagus. 

“Almost there, kid.”

Jim had squeezed his eyes shut again after he watched them grab the slug by the tail. The mouthpiece was pulled free and long forceps were pushed deep to the back of his throat. The scope was removed followed by a weirdly numb scraping sensation in his mouth, as the slug was pulled free. He nearly passed out at the sight of the dead insect limp in the teeth of the long tweezers.

“Dammit, Jim.” 

“Not my fault,” Jim rasped.

“Yeah, I know, kid. Just lay back and relax, the hard part is over with.”

Jim didn’t need the rush of warmth in his veins as a sign that it was okay to succumb to the exhaustion that bled from his body.

###

“Clear the corridor, Bones,” Jim, pale and sweating, was held upright between Sulu and Chekov and in obvious pain.

“What the hell for? Just get down here already,” McCoy was not in the mood today and Jim was stalling to step down from the transporter pad.

Sulu and Chekov were hanging on to Jim’s arms that had been slung over their shoulders and trying not to get between the captain and the CMO.

“Bones, now,” Jim was unusually firm with the man.

“Not until you tell me why you’re stallin’,” McCoy saw the transporter techs behind the transparent aluminum shield trying to look at anything other than the scene on the pad.

“Uh, Doctor McCoy, he’s awfully heavy. Can we hurry up please?” Sulu was shaking under the majority share of Jim’s weight.

“Do I need to call for a gurney?”

“Please,” Chekov begged.

“Absolutely not,” Jim’s eyes were fierce.

McCoy was absolutely puzzled, “Then you better get down here and tell me why not.”

Whatever Jim’s problem was he didn’t want it to be known. He had come looking for the captain when he refused to show up in sickbay after the landing party returned. McCoy eyes the man again, nothing looked seriously wrong and there was no obvious blood dripping to the deck. The doctor finally had enough and yielded, flipping open his comm.

“McCoy to Bridge.”

“ _Bridge here_ ,” Uhura answered.

“I need you to clear the corridors from here to sickbay.”

“ _Is everything alright, sir_?”

“Just do it, Lieutenant,” Jim snapped.

“ _Aye, sir. Give me a minute_.”

“Jim, what the hell? That was uncalled for,” McCoy wasn’t going to let Jim be an asshole for no good reason.

The overhead intercom chimed to life and Uhura politely ordered any crew in the corridors to leave or remain in the rooms they occupied.

“Are you happy now?” McCoy gave the hallways a minute to empty.

“Yeah,” Jim grimaced.

Sulu and Chekov took it as their cue to start shuffling their load down the steps towards the irate doctor. McCoy was alarmed at how slow and painful Jim’s movements seemed to be. Jim had finally made it off the last step and he stepped out of the group’s way. As soon as the trio made it past him he understood completely.

“For fuck’s sake, Jim,” McCoy’s arching eyebrow set a new record.

“Bones, not now.”

“Jim, let me call for a gurney.”

“No,” his pace was glacial.

The doctor could only stare in utter disbelief as Jim’s entire backside, from the small of his back to a few inches down the back of his legs, was covered in some kind of thick quills.

“How did this even happen?” McCoy inched his way behind the Bridge officers.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Jim said through gritted teeth.

“Kid, you’re clearly in pain. Let me call for help.”

“No,” Jim continued to shuffle.

“I can override you, you know?”

“Bones, please,” Jim never seriously whined like this.

“Okay, okay,” McCoy didn’t want to have to play that card this early into the ordeal.

The walk to sickbay took four times longer than it usually did and McCoy went ahead of the group to clear the room or pull curtains around anyone who couldn’t leave.

“Take me to the back,” Jim ordered.

The junior officers looked to McCoy who nodded and waved to the hallway that held their few private rooms. 

“You speak a word of this, especially to Spock, I’ll have you scrubbing the inside of the nacelles for a year,” Jim fell face first onto the biobed.

“Yes, sir.” “Aye, Keptin.”

Sulu and Chekov didn’t waste any time fleeing the room around the doctor in the doorway.

“Get it out of your system,” Jim groaned into the thin pillow.

“It’s not funny, kid. Clearly you’re in a lot of pain. Give me a few minutes to make sure you’re not gonna keel over unexpectedly and we’ll get that taken care of, okay?” McCoy took an unusual soft approach to try and smooth down the captain’s ruffled feathers.

Jim nodded and turned his head away. McCoy quietly summoned Chapel and started up the biobed’s scanner. The green light had swept Jim’s body by the time the nurse arrived. If she was shocked she didn’t show it; by now she had to be used to the weird situations this crew managed to find themselves in. McCoy pulled up the scans on his data pad while Chapel divested Jim of as much clothing as she could. She had to leave squares of fabric here and there because they were embedded too deeply.

“Toraphine?” Chapel trashed the uniform that had been reduced to ribbons by her shears.

“Yeah, 25 migs and 5 migs Isoprodol,” McCoy tossed a sheet over Jim’s legs and back, leaving the spines exposed.

Jim barely flinched when Chapel started an IV in the back of his outstretched hand and melted with relief when the drugs finally hit his brain.

“Better, kid?” McCoy watched the vitals display.

“Mmmhmmm,” Jim mumbled.

McCoy took a deep breath and plopped on the stool Chapel had rolled in; it was going to take a while. He sighed and flipped on the light attached to the loupe glasses he had put on. 

“At the risk of making this worse, I need to inject a local back here,” McCoy had to use a real needle and syringe because the quills were too densely packed to use a hypospray.

“You always said I was a pain in the ass.”

McCoy rolled his eyes; at least Jim wasn’t hurting enough to be a real asshole anymore.

“Well, I meant that you were a pain in _my_ ass. Should I ask how you did this?” McCoy picked up forceps and got to work pulling the quills in Jim’s lower back.

“S’not my fault.”

“I gathered that much. Care to be more specific?”

“Chekov didn’t want to sit near the cave so I traded spots,” Jim slurred.

“So you sat on an alien porcupine?” McCoy winced as he pulled a particularly long quill from the gluteus medius.

Jim felt that one and huffed.

“Sorry, that one was in there pretty good. Go on though,” McCoy pulled another quill.

“Cave wasn’t empty.”

“Uh huh.”

“I think we just scared it, but Sulu panicked and shot it. Didn’t mean to kill it.”

_Typical, creature hurts him and he feels sorry for it._

“Well, you certainly know how to attract trouble, darlin’.”

Jim continued to doze on and off thanks to the steady supply of pain relievers and muscle relaxants along with fluids and antibiotics. McCoy managed to remove the quills and cover the wounds in a film bandage on one side before having to stop for a break. He stretched his back and helped Jim to a few sips of water.

“Okay, kid. Time for the second half,” the surgeon gave his back one more big stretch before resuming his seat on the other side. 

McCoy finally got to see slivers of glassy blue, “You okay, Jim?”

“‘m sorry.”

“What for?” McCoy started to remove quills.

“Being an ass.”

“I don’t think I’m the one you need to apologize to.”

“Was mean to you too,” he puffed.

McCoy had to remind himself not to dose Jim again with this combo, the man got downright sappy. Chapel had discretely entered the small room to remove the basin full of quills.

“It’s okay kid, I know how bad you were hurtin’. Why don’t you close your eyes? I’ll be done when you wake up.”

McCoy gave the woman a pointed look and she understood the hint and gave Jim’s IV a bolus of the cocktail keeping him drowsy.

“I know she’s back there,” Jim slurred as a warm flush blossomed from his hand.

“Sorry, Captain,” Chapel reddened.

“Jim,” McCoy looked pointedly over his glasses.

“Whatttt?” he was losing the fight to stay somewhat awake.

“Close your eyes.”

McCoy was pretty sure the sound he made was supposed to have been a ‘no’. He shook his head and continued to pull the quills from Jim’s backside.

###

“I don’t care where he is, I want him up here now,” McCoy fumed to Spock outside the shuttle bay.

“Patience, Doctor. They are unable to transport and we sent a shuttle to retrieve the team.”

“Why the hell can’t they beam him back? It’s just a broken leg.”

“There were complications.”

Spock knew the instant the CMO’s temper short circuited and regretted having not used some of the lessons Uhura had given him about dealing with the overly emotional human.

“Complications?” McCoy’s voice was so low there was no denying it dripped with fury.

“Allow me to explain, Doctor.”

“You have five seconds to spit it out of your green ass.”

“I cannot possibly convey everything that quickly.”

That was clearly not the correct thing to say and McCoy tensed.

“I do not know the specifics other than Lieutenant Uhura communicated that the Captain sustained a broken leg while climbing on an excursion with locals and the Shakshari rendered first aid.”

McCoy’s anger was boiling, “I’m only going to ask once, is he alive?”

“Of course,” Spock said without hesitation.

McCoy took the Vulcan’s answer but it left a lot of room to imagine the state in which Jim would arrive. The sight of Jim being off loaded nearly made him have a panic attack right there on the gantry to the landing pad.

“What the hell is this?” McCoy stepped aside for the crew pushing the stasis pod onto the ship.

McCoy swallowed the rising nausea and looked down at Jim’s peaceful face under the faceplate. Spock eyed the captain’s inert form with a faint sense of discomfort.

“He’s fine, Leonard,” Uhura exited behind the group. She knew the sight must have reminded the two of them of the last time they all saw their captain in cryo.

“Does this look fine to you?” McCoy’s tricorder flew over the pod to confirm the occupant was stable.

Uhura set a gentle hand on McCoy’s arm, “It’s not like last time.”

McCoy’s hand stilled and rested on the surface above Jim’s chest, “How the hell did he wind up in here?”

“It’s not his fault for once. He wanted to be taken back to the landing zone and they sealed him up in this instead. I can’t tell if it’s what they do to all of their injured before moving them or if it was just him. The excursion leader felt so bad he asked us to ‘do him the honor’ and kill him. Kirk kept trying to tell him it was a small injury and that it was no big deal. I think they were afraid of what we’d do to them for allowing him to be injured.”

“Jesus H Christ,” McCoy listened to Uhura as they followed the cart with the stasis pod to Sickbay.

The pod took up so much room they had to park him in the middle of the open bay.

“They said Captain Kirk was coming—“ Chapel came from a supply closet in the back and stopped in her tracks. “Oh boy.”

“Did they provide instructions for extricating the Captain?”

“No, sir.”

“I can’t read this gibberish,” McCoy scoffed at the control panel and it’s alien language. About the only thing he could read was the slow but steady waves of the ECG trace on the display.

He looked down at a line of delicate eyelashes and forced himself to believe that this wasn’t like the last time, and that Jim was alive and relatively unharmed.

“I’ll help,” Uhura stepped up to the panel and started to tab through its screens.

McCoy scanned Jim just to make sure nothing changed in the ten minutes since he last checked. While not ideal, he didn’t get any indication that Jim was actually in any danger. The temperature inside was cold enough to slow down cellular activity but wasn’t anywhere close to the freezing point of human blood like it would be in a true cryotube. Jim was still breathing, albeit very slowly and shallowly.

“Here,” Uhura pointed and tapped at a few icons.

A fog filled the inside of the pod and everyone froze in place. The vapors obscured the man inside until a small fan kicked in and pulled them out through the foot of the pod. McCoy leaned over the faceplate after the fog cleared and was greeted by two electric blue eyes trying to flutter open.

“What’s next?” McCoy stayed in Jim’s line of sight.

“Let me look,” Uhura continued to tap at the screen.

“Jim?” McCoy knocked on the glass-like lid.

The captain blinked his way out of his stupor. He saw McCoy looming over the pod and tried to push up on the surface above him. It wouldn’t budge.

“Hang on, kid. We’re working on it.”

Jim saw the doctor’s mouth move but couldn’t hear the words. He quickly panicked and tried to push harder against the faceplate.

“Easy,” McCoy all but yelled while slapping the glass. 

The screen on the pod began a shrill wail.

“Shit,” McCoy watched Jim’s agitation increase.

It wasn’t helping his own anxiety but he pressed his palm flat against the glass. His eyes flicked down to Uhura who was still punching the screen and other keys.

“Does he have air?” Spock had to work to suppress his own sense of anxiety.

“Yeah,” McCoy confirmed after scanning the pod.

“Nurse Chapel, can you retrieve a data pad?”

“Sure,” the nurse left and grabbed one off her desk.

Spock pulled up a writing program and typed a short message. He held it over Jim’s face.

‘Remain calm’

Jim nodded and ceased trying to push his way out of the pod.

‘Extrication in progress’

“We might need to call engineering. This should initiate the opening but it’s not doing anything. The locks won’t disengage,” Uhura angrily pressed an unresponsive key.

McCoy took the data pad. 

‘Have to call Scotty’

Jim rolled his eyes.

McCoy erased the screen and set out with a series of ‘yes or no’ questions to make sure Jim was okay and would be okay until they got him out of there. Yes he was cold, yes his leg hurt, and no it wasn’t that bad. Jim ended the questioning with a palm to the glass. McCoy sighed and placed his hand over Jim’s. 

Spock watched the scene and was reminded of a similar gesture at the entry to the warp core. It took more work than he would admit to keep his emotions buried.

“You folks called,” Scotty strolled in with a big pry bar slung over his shoulder.

“We have been unable to retrieve the captain.”

“Aye, we’ll have ‘em out in a jiffy,” the engineer inspected the pod.

Scotty wedged the pry bar under a nearly invisible edge and heaved on the lever with all of his weight. The first half cracked open loudly and he shimmied the bar further down to repeat the process. The last locking mechanism gave way and the lid was swung open. 

Everyone breathed an audible sigh of relief as Jim sprang upright.

“About time, it’s fucking cold in there,” shivered.

McCoy made quick work of scanning Jim before declaring him okay to be moved. He had tried to swing himself over the edge before McCoy put a halt to that escape attempt.

“Your leg is still broken. Just relax.”

The pod was pushed next to a biobed and the three men managed to get their captain transferred with minimal swearing. Jim’s whining increased with his rising temperature and the non-medical folks quickly left McCoy to deal with it alone. Chapel did her best to ignore Jim’s protests as she cut off his uniform and bundled him under several layers of blankets.

“Why did you take my clothes if you’re adding more layers?” Jim whined through chattering teeth.

McCoy had turned on the biobed’s warming function but it was being slow to bring up the captain’s temperature. He rolled his eyes as Jim continued to whine while he examined the broken leg. The doctor tried not to get angry with the Shakshari, but it really was a simple broken leg that he would have treated in an hour.

“Ow, stop it,” Jim hissed after McCoy touched a tender spot on his shin.

“Hey, Jim, what’s that?” McCoy pointed off to the side.

The doctor slammed a hypo into Jim’s exposed neck as soon as he instinctively turned his head.

“Son of a bitch,” Jim slapped the stinging injection site.

“Hey, you love my momma. What’s got you in such a terrible mood?”

Chapel kept quiet as she slid the bottom plate to the osteogenic stimulator under the broken leg.

“It was just a broken leg and then I wake up in a fucking cryotube. I know I wasn’t aware the last time but fuck…”

McCoy pulled the blankets back up where they’d fallen down. He knew exactly what Jim meant.

“I know, kid, me too,” McCoy’s hands stilled.

Jim turned his head away to hide the water that welled up in his eyes.

“It wasn’t my fault, Bones.”

McCoy patted Jim’s shoulder, “I know, darlin’. Let’s get your leg taken care of and then we’ll leave.”

Jim nodded and McCoy solemnly got to work.

###

“Lights 40 percent.”

McCoy blinked away the sleep from his eyes as the lights came up. He was pulled out of a comfortable sleep by the feeling of roasting slowly in an oven that was the bed sheets.

“Jesus H Christ it’s hot as a damn sauna in here,” he said to the lump under the sheets next to him.

He turned to his side to see a tuft of blonde hair poking out of the blankets that had cocooned Jim. Alarm bells began to ring inside the doctor’s head. One, Jim slept so lightly the change in lighting should’ve caused him to stir and secondly, the man ran hot while sleeping and preferred only the thinnest pajamas and bedding.

“Jim?” McCoy noticed a slight tremor in the bundle.

Now the doctor was really concerned.

“Lights full,” he rose up and pushed the bedding on his side away.

McCoy rolled the man into his back and peeled bedding layers away. There was a bright red flush to Jim’s cheeks. He brushed aside a tuft of sweat-slicked hair that was stuck to Jim’s forehead before putting the back of his hand against it.

“Fuck,” McCoy felt the searing heat.

Jim took a raspy breath and McCoy put two fingers under the man’s jaw. The pulse underneath was rapid.

“Jim?” McCoy said loudly, lightly tapping Jim’s cheek.

“What?” Jim stirred without opening his eyes.

“Jesus, Jim, you’re burning up.”

Jim tried to pull the bedding back over himself but the doctor easily halted the attempt.

“Stop,” Jim tried to swat the doctor’s hand away.

The doctor easily avoided Jim’s hands, “Dammit, Jim.” There was no missing the rust colored crust that had built up in the corners of his eyes. “We need to go to sickbay,” McCoy peeled one of Jim’s eyelids open with his thumb and index finger. The orb was red and inflamed.

“‘m not going,” Jim flinched from the pain of the light hitting his sensitive eyes.

“In a pig’s eye,” McCoy pulled the blankets down even further.

“Bones, I’m cold,” Jim shivered.

The doctor pulled up Jim’s t-shirt, “Dammit.”

A bright red rash in a strip ran down the length of the captain’s side, it traveled from the back of his shoulder to just above his hip. McCoy grimaced, the rash it looked angry and painful.

“Jim, this doesn’t hurt?” McCoy set the fabric down gently.

The man’s response was to roll onto his side and try to burrow into the bedding. McCoy let him be for the moment and stomped into the bathroom. He came out after a few minutes dressed in yesterday’s uniform.

“Can you walk or do I need to call for a ride?” McCoy pulled on his boots.

The response was muffled under the bed linen. McCoy flipped the layers back and Jim curled in on himself even tighter.

“C’mon, kid. I can’t treat you here.”

“‘m not sick.”

McCoy grabbed Jim’s bicep and he howled in pain. The doctor found more of the rash under the shirtsleeve.

“McCoy to Sickbay.”

_“Sickbay.”_ Chapel was apparently on duty.

“Hey Chris, can you send a team with a stretcher down to Jim’s quarters?”

_“Is everything alright, boss?”_

“No, but go ahead and start pulling Andorian Shingles booster records for everyone.”

_“They’re leaving now.”_

The corpsmen didn’t show a hint of a reaction when they pulled their stretcher into their captain’s sleeping area and saw the other side of the bed had been occupied. They managed to shuffle an unwilling load onto the antigrav stretcher.

“‘s not my fault, Bones,” Jim shivered as they made their way down the corridors.

McCoy keyed in his code for a medical priority at the turbo lift and they crammed into the small space.

“I told you to be careful at that Command seminar.”

Jim’s only response was to turn his head as far away from the bright lights as he could. The ride was mercifully briefly having been overridden and they were pulling the stretcher into sickbay in minutes. 

“Let's put him in the back,” McCoy steered the group to the hallway that held the private rooms. 

Jim would need a dark space and they could only dim the main bay lights so much. 

“Hey, Leonard,” M’Benga strode out of their research lab. “Need a hand?”

“Hey, Geoff. I got it, I’m due on shift in a few hours anyways.”

“Let me know if you need anything,” the other physician nodded and returned back to the work he’d been doing in the lab.

McCoy tossed out a ‘thanks’ as they disappeared into a private room.

“Guess who needs a booster?” Chapel came armed with a tray of equipment after they got the captain moved to the biobed.

McCoy eyed the hypospray and grumbled. He reached for the device but his hand was slapped away.

“Oh no, boss,” she grabbed the hypospray and struck the side of her CMO’s neck with the same ferocity he used on Jim.

“Shit, Chapel,” he seethed while rubbing the painful injection site.

The nurse only smirked, “I have the rest of the list and have sent comms to everyone who needs it.”

“You enjoyed that way too much,” McCoy rubbed the still hurting spot. “Yours is still good?” 

“Yep, three more years. Where’s his rash?” Chapel donned a pair of gloves.

“His side,” McCoy donned his own pair and lifted up the hem of Jim’s shirt.

Chapel scowled and divested her captain of his shirt, “I brought the Fausticlovir but I can grab the Carciclovir if you want that instead.”

McCoy eyed the vitals display, “That one is fine. Let’s have Gabapentin ready. It won’t be long before the neurological pain really ramps up.”

Chapel nodded and left to grab the medication. 

“Jim,” McCoy called out loudly while putting a warm compress over Jim’s eyes that had begun to leak red.

The ailing captain groaned and rolled to his side.

“I need you to wake up long enough to take medicine for me. Lucky for you it only comes as an oral solution.”

“Sorry, Bones,” Jim huffed.

“I know, darlin’. I need you to swallow this for me,” McCoy held a small cup to Jim’s lips.

It was certainly awkward drinking on his side but Jim managed to choke down the foul tasting liquid.

“That shit is gross,” Jim smacked his lips.

“I can find a different one and give it to you from an IV—“

“No. Get me a blanket.”

Chapel returned, “Good morning, Captain.”

McCoy only pulled a thin sheet to Jim’s waist to his displeasure. Chapel loaded a hypo and handed it over to her boss. She was shocked when McCoy delivered the pain and fever medications gently. The nurse spritzed the angry rash with a spray that caused Jim to hiss.

“Easy, kid,” McCoy placed a steady hand on Jim’s hip. “We have a topical lotion for it but it’s gonna be a shitty couple of days anyways.”

“Perfect.”

McCoy’s heart ached for the man, the virus viciously attacked the roots of the nerves the same way Terran shingles did but the pain was generally worse.

“I’ll let you go back to your quarters once we see how well we can manage the pain.”

Jim flinched at the cold lotion the nurse rubbed into the angry skin. It felt heavenly and he felt his tense muscles relax themselves.

“How many people need boosters? McCoy asked.

“Ninety something?”

The CMO exhaled dramatically, “Just great.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“I don’t know about that, kid,” McCoy was not looking forward to the long shift ahead.

###

“Did the Captain beam back?” The CMO stood confused at the empty transporter pad.

“Yes, sir,” the technician nervously replied.

“Am I missing something?” McCoy was getting irritated.

“No, sir.”

“Then where the hell is he?”

A bead of sweat rolled down the tech’s temple and McCoy eyed him.

“He ran out of here, sir.”

Now the doctor was concerned.

“And do you know where he ran off to?”

“No, sir,” the answer came too quickly.

“Of course. As you were,”’ McCoy rolled his eyes and stepped into the corridor.

He came to an information screen and punched in his CMO access code on the personnel locator tab. The locations of the senior officers weren't given as freely as the junior members of the crew.

“What the hell?” McCoy’s eyebrow nearly reached his hairline.

The screen showed a locator dot in the head at the end of the corridor by the turbolift. He cleared the screen and headed towards the bathroom. The door lock flashed ‘engaged’ in red lettering. He knocked on the door anyways. There was no response so he knocked harder.

“In use,” came a weak reply from inside.

“Jim, open up.”

“Go away, Bones.”

“Jim, I mean it.”

“Can’t a man use the head in peace?”

The question was punctuated by the sound of muffled vomiting.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear that.”

“Bones, seriously. Leave me alone.”

McCoy considered his options for three seconds before punching in his medical override code. The door swished open and the smell of sickness was overpowering. That wasn’t his biggest concern as Jim was face first in the toilet bowl expelling everything he’d likely eaten in days.

“Dammit, Jim,” McCoy shut the door and crouched down.

“Go away,” the pale and ragged man lifted up and flushed the contents.

McCoy placed the back of his hand to Jim’s pale and sweaty forehead.

“You’re burnin’ up! How long have you been sick?”

“It started after we broke the negotiations session for lunch,” Jim doubled over the bowl.

“Was anyone else sick?”

“I don’t know.”

McCoy could only offer a soothing hand on Jim’s back as the heaving wracked his body.

“Have you been able to drink?” 

Jim’s answer was continued heaving. McCoy patted his pockets; he didn’t have his comm or a tricorder with him.

“We need to go to sickbay so I can look you over.”

“No,” Jim flushed the bowl.

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Take me back to my cabin,” Jim ran a sleeved elbow over his sweating face.

“Jim, this looks to be something more than a bad lunch. You probably need fluids and I can give you something for the vomiting.”

That was the wrong thing to say and the captain was back to hugging the commode.

“Jesus, kid,” McCoy waited for the wave to pass.

Jim leaned back against the wall, “My quarters.”

“And if you need fluids?”

“Do it there. My intestinal tract doesn’t need an audience.”

McCoy nodded at that. The news of the captain in sickbay always traveled faster than light speed and he was already miserable enough.

“You okay to stand?” McCoy put a hand under Jim’s bicep and pulled.

“Think so?” Jim flushed and leaned heavily on the sink’s edge to rinse his mouth and wipe his face.

“Ready?” McCoy let go but hovered close.

“Yeah,” Jim straightened his back and opened the door.

If any of the passing crewmembers saw the two men coming out of the head together, no one said anything. Their captain clearly looked unwell despite his attempts to seem otherwise. Jim had to close his eyes and breathe through his nose as the movement of the turbolift sloshed his angry stomach.

“Gonna make it?” McCoy took a steady hold of the wavering captain.

“Yes,” Jim breathed heavily.

“Almost there, kid,” McCoy keyed open the door to Jim’s quarters.

“Bathroom,” Jim said after the doctor tried to pull him towards his bed.

“Okay, Jim,” McCoy steered them towards the head.

Jim immediately sank to the floor and began heaving into the bowl. It was eating McCoy’s heart to see Jim so miserable.

“I need to run to sickbay, are you gonna be okay for a few minutes?”

McCoy watched the back of Jim’s nod. He left with a hopefully encouraging pat on the man’s shoulder.

Sickbay was a zoo when he arrived. Nearly all of the beds were full of vomiting crew.

“What the hell happened?” he stopped a frazzled looking head nurse.

“The away team started trickling in not too long ago. All of them are puking their guts out. Oh, we’ve also got two with diarrhea.”

McCoy ran a hand through his hair, “Shit.”

“Wasn’t Captain Kirk with them?”

Chapel saw his face and knew.

“Yeah, I found him in a head by the transporter room. I just got him to his quarters.”

“Oh boy. We’re actually okay here for the moment if you need to get him situated.”

“I’ll be quick,” McCoy grimaced at the sight and ducked into the supply closet.

He returned to Jim’s room with his medkit and a hydration kit to see the bathroom door shut.

“Jim?” he set the kits down by the closed door.

“Go away.”

“Kid, what’s the matter? I just left you.”

McCoy heard sounds other than vomiting before the toilet was flushed. 

“I can fix that, darlin’,” he leaned helplessly on the wall.

“Is anyone else this sick?”

“Actually the whole away team is redecorating my deck in sickbay.”

A pained groan over the sound of water came from the other side. 

McCoy walked over to the set of dressers and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, “I brought pajamas.”

The door swished open and revealed a man who looked even worse than he did minutes ago.

“Jesus, Jim. You look worse.”

Jim flinched and swiped the clothing, “It wasn’t my fault.”

“I know. Get changed and I’ll look you over.”

The captain disappeared and the door slid shut behind him. McCoy knew to back off on this one and retreated to the bedroom with his kits. Jim wasn’t far behind him, shuffling lethargically.

“I hate this,” he plopped into his turned down bed.

McCoy nodded, “There’s still not much we can do about it these days. Not every alien food is going to agree with us.”

The doctor was all too familiar from his own experience. Food borne illnesses from alien foods were still the biggest concern in the ever-expanding Federation. He pulled out his tricorder and scanned the sick captain.

“I’m guessing you can’t even keep water down?”

Jim only nodded as the wand buzzed around his stomach.

“Was there any blood in your vomit or stool?”

“Booones,” Jim flushed beet red.

The doctor rolled his eyes, “Jim, I’m asking because I need to know.”

The blonde shook his head, “No.”

“About the only thing I can do is keep you hydrated and treat the symptoms until it works it’s way out. Sounds like it’ll be rough if hit you and the others so quickly.”

“How can anything be left?” Jim covered his eyes with an elbow.

McCoy took that as permission to grab the arm closest to him and lay it flat against the bed. He snapped the IV stand together and set it in between the bed and the nightstand. 

“You’re lucky I snagged the last auto,” the doctor pulled the auto-starter from his med kit and positioned the device just below the crook of Jim’s elbow. 

Jim peeked an eye to what McCoy was doing.

“Little pinch, kid,” the little display screen sprang to life.

McCoy gave a rare soft apology when Jim flinched, and he quickly got the fluids flowing.

“Hypo or in your IV?” McCoy held up a vial.

“IV.”

McCoy injected the antiemetic into a port in the line and tucked Jim under the covers. He cleaned up his paraphernalia and put the small waste bin from the bathroom within Jim’s reach.

“Feel any better?” McCoy scanned Jim again.

Jim shook his head.

“Okay, let's give it some time to work. Is your comm nearby?”

“Pocket.”

McCoy went and grabbed the device from the discarded uniform pants in the bathroom and set the device on the bedside table. 

“Comm me if you need anything before I get back.”

The captain nodded and turned to his side, burrowing under the covers.

“Thanks,” Jim huffed as the lights dimmed.

“Rest, darlin’.”

###

“Captain, may I ask a personal query?” Spock stood ramrod straight in front of Jim who was seated behind the desk.

“Sure, Spock,” Jim looked up briefly to gauge what he was about to be asked?

“Why are you working in this confined space?”

Jim scanned the little closet office deep in the bowels of the engineering section he had hidden himself in, “Because I need peace to get through this.”

“You know Doctor McCoy can simply use the personnel locator…”

“Ah, but this cubby happens to be right under the main magneto-turbine for the EPS grid.”

Spock should’ve known, “There is too much magnetic distortion for the tracking system to detect your location.”

“Exactly,” Jim smiled happily at his deception.

“May I ask a second query?”

Jim was starting to lose his patience, “Fire away.”

“Why are you trying to avoid him?”

“I’m not avoiding him, I’d just like a few hours of uninterrupted peace so I can finish this before my long weekend,” Jim gestured to the data pads spread out over the desk.

It took a few nanoseconds for Spock to understand the hint he was given, “I see, Captain. My apologies for interrupting you.”

Spock moved to leave when Jim stopped him, “I’ll put Lieutenant Uhura on gamma for two weeks if you tell him where I am.”

Jim flashed a smile knowing that putting his senior comms officer on a shift she despised was going to make her cranky and Spock was miserable when she was cranky. It was a low blow but he wasn’t above playing dirty sometimes.

“Of course, Captain.”

Spock knew this was a battle not worth fighting and departed with a small nod. Jim watched the door slide shut and relaxed into the uncomfortable chair. His reprieve was short lived when a priority message from his CMO came through on his data pad.

_I know you’re hiding._

“Am not, I’m actually busy,” Jim pecked out with a displeased huff.

_Jim, you do this every year._

The captain scowled and didn’t send a reply.

_Report to sickbay at 1700 or I will come find you._

Jim threw the data pad at the wall. After that he lost all focus for the remaining hours until he sulked to sickbay.

“Hey, Captain,” Chapel greeted him too cheerfully for his foul mood when he finally slunk past the doors with thirty seconds to spare. “He’s finishing up in the OR but you can go head and go on back and get changed.”

Jim cast his eyes down and nodded. He glared at the flimsy patient gown that waited for him on the lone biobed in the private procedure room.

_Fuck Khan and the gift of resurrection that kept on giving._

He groaned and swiped the offending object off the biobed and stomped off to the small bathroom at the end of the hallway. 

“I’m guessing he’s in a great mood?” McCoy asked Chapel as he typed out his orders for the engineering crewman who just had a compound fracture in his arm reduced.

“Yeah,” the nurse took the data pad once the doctor had finished.

McCoy had prepared for a fight but luckily for both of them, Jim had yielded and was waiting semi-patiently on the edge of the biobed with his legs dangling. 

“Sorry, Jim. Had an unexpected compound fracture to take care of,” McCoy eyed Jim’s elevated vitals on the display above the bed.

“Just get it over with,” Jim growled.

McCoy sighed; he hated doing this to Jim as much as Jim hated having it done. He set a comforting hand on the captain’s tense shoulder.

“I _am_ sorry, kid. I promise I hate it too, but we have to make sure your marrow is still behaving after all that shit we did to it after…” McCoy refused to finish the sentence.

“All the shit _you_ did to it. I didn’t ask for this, Bones. It’s not _my_ fault. It’s been years, hasn’t it been long enough now?”

They had this conversation every time, “It’s been five years. We’ll go to every other year after this one.”

Jim resumed his attempt to bore a hole in the deck with his stare.

“You know the drill, lie on your stomach.”

Jim maneuvered onto his front and turned his head away while McCoy set up the drapes and sterilization field over the back of his hips.

“Just the sedative, kid,” McCoy winced himself when Jim flinched at the hypospray as it injected its load of sedatives and pain medication.

The numbers on the biomonitor slowly turned green and yellow.

“Jim?” McCoy called out, snapping on a pair of gloves.

“Hmm?” Jim mumbled.

“Just checking. I’m gonna numb the site now,” the doctor used an actual needle and syringe to deposit the anesthetics deep into the tissues.

Chapel entered quietly with a sealed package. She opened it and McCoy pulled out the laser scalpel.

“Ready, kid?”

The reply was lost into the pillow and McCoy made the smallest incision. McCoy swapped the scalpel for a wide handled aspiration needle. Jim couldn’t hold in the groan at the sharp and deep pain when the large bore needle was pushed through his bone. The screen above the bed briefly flashed its warnings.

“Doing great, kid. The shitty part is over,” McCoy drew out the wide needle and its cored sample.

The doctor quickly took a sample of the fluid while the hole was open. Chapel took the samples and left for the research lab with the precious cargo.

“Almost done, Jim.”

“Hate this,” the poor man weakly clinched the pillow under his head.

McCoy swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. It was his own fault that he revived Jim and made him suffer long lasting consequences. There was a microsecond where he regretted having saved Jim but that thought was buried deep before it had time to boil up again. He plugged the hole with osteoblasts and sealed the incision before setting an osteogenic stimulator over the site. It was probably overkill but it was worth it if Jim was back on his feet and pain free by later in the evening. If he ruined one of Jim’s rare three day off schedules then he’d never be able to convince him to undergo another one.

Jim’s blue eyes were dulled and watery when they got him turned to his side to let the sedatives finish dissipating. The captain said nothing as McCoy quietly scanned, drew blood, and administered a few boosters to finish the rest of the physical.

“Okay, darlin’. You’re free to go,” the osteogenic stimulator was pulled free and Jim helped upright after half an hour. 

Jim was much more alert but still quiet and subdued. McCoy helped the man back into his uniform and left the top buttons on his pants undone to not put pressure on the still tender site.

“You okay to make it back?”

“Yeah,” Jim shoved his feet into his boots.

“Okay, I’ll go run the samples now and grab our dinner when I finish.”

Jim nodded and headed for the door.

McCoy grabbed Jim’s bicep, “Jim, this isn’t your fault and you didn’t ask for this. I’m sorry I have to keep doing this.”

“I know, Bones,” Jim finally spoke and patted the hand around his arm.

###

“Shit, Bones. That hurts,” Jim hissed sitting shirtless with his legs hanging over the edge of the biobed.

McCoy rolled his eyes and continued to probe the gashes stretched across the captain’s back. The deep oozing wounds crossed the entire span of flesh. He dabbed a wad of gauze at a still bleeding spot and Jim flinched. 

“Bones,” Jim growled.

“Doctor, surely you can give him a little more Toraphine?” Chapel stood at McCoy’s side catching the soiled gauze in a basin.

“A little suffering is good for the soul,” McCoy dabbed at the wounds hard.

“Fuck, Bones. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“If you hadn’t mouthed off to the guy with the fucking whip…” McCoy dabbed at the tender spot again.

“Boooones,” Jim hissed and hopped off the biobed.

“Jim, sit back down now,” McCoy’s hazel eyes flashed with anger.

“No, not until you calm down.”

Chapel looked at the two men staring down each other across a biobed and discreetly left to find somewhere else to ride out the storm.

“Jim,” McCoy seethed.

“No,” Jim drew up his full height even though it pulled at his aching back. “Go find me M’Benga if you’re going to be a heavy handed asshole.”

“Sit back down now.”

Jim wasn’t going to yield, “Bones. I’m sorry, but if I hadn't said anything then you would’ve...”

McCoy was furious that once again Jim put himself in danger. Jim had no idea that a simple collegial pat on McCoy’s back would’ve resulted in an intergalactic incident with the extremely pious species they were negotiating admission into the Federation with. Jim had been blind with fury when they pushed him and the doctor to their knees and held them at phaser point. The only solution was for one or the other to be whipped by the planet’s spiritual leader. Jim had quickly agreed to take the punishment before having an angry McCoy beamed back to the ship before he could do anything about it. 

The doctor had been given too much time to stew while waiting for Jim to take the lashings and beam on board. The three lashes he was sentenced to were nothing compared to the doctor’s anger he faced when he materialized on the pad. Jim had ripped his arm free of the doctor’s grasp and marched himself to sickbay leaving a trail of blood droplets in the corridor.

“Are you going to let me finish?” McCoy crossed his arms.

“No,” Jim had to put his hands down on the biobed for support.

McCoy knew he could hold out longer than Jim once the pain and exhaustion caught up to him.

“And why the hell not?”

“I’m serious. Go get M’Benga or Chapel if you’re going to be angry with me.”

“Do you know why I’m angry, Jim?” McCoy’s hazel eyes hardened.

“Of course I know. It was actually my fucking fault this time. Fuck, Bones how was I supposed to know?”

“And you couldn’t let me shoulder the burden just once could you? You think you have to save everyone every time?”

They were on two separate pages. McCoy was angry Jim stepped in to take the punishment and Jim was angry McCoy had been put in danger because of his actions.

“Jim, we have to be equal in _this_ for it to work.”

“I wasn’t going to let you get hurt for my mistake.”

The tremor in Jim’s arms was obvious now. McCoy softened his stance a hair; he knew Jim was the way he was because he was afraid of losing his crew, his family. That still didn’t excuse him for his actions. 

He could see that the man was flagging, “I know, Jim.” 

McCoy decided to back down completely. His anger for Jim was overridden by the anguish it caused to see the man in pain. He always broke first in these situations.

He held up his hands in the universal sign of ‘peace’, “Will you please sit back down?”

Jim was skeptical of the doctor’s abrupt emotional U-turn, “Is this some trick?”

“No. Kid, you’re hurting. Let me help.”

“I was hurting before…”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was being an asshole. Your sense of martyrdom just makes me so damn angry.”

Jim cautiously lifted himself onto the biobed. McCoy glanced the biomonitor’s screen before scowling at the angry gashes.

“Let’s see if Chris can’t come get a line going while I work on these.”

The nurse either had a sixth sense or was hiding within earshot, and arrived with a start kit and a few IV bags. She got fluids and antibiotics going with minimal whining from the captain.

The IV had only been running for a few minutes when a sense of heaviness hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Booooones,” Jim knew his time conscious was limited.

“What?” McCoy didn’t look up from the forceps he had buried in an open gash.

“What did you give me?” Jim’s tongue was like lead.

“You want to lay down?”

“I hate you.”

McCoy refused to acknowledge he had Chapel slip a little something into the IV and paused long enough to help Jim onto his stomach.

“No you don’t. Just relax and let me finish. These are deep and it could take a while.”

Jim huffed and sunk his face into the thin pillow.

“Fuck, Bones. I really fucked up.”

“If they think a pat on the back is scandalous, then you should’ve told them what we do in bed…”

McCoy smirked to himself as the tips of Jim’s ears redden.


End file.
